


what this body was made for

by tauraya (karikes)



Series: author's favorites [7]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: (but also the author loves using the word meatsuit and she will not apologize), (very sarcastically), (wow using the word meatsuit will DRAG the readers right in she says to herself), Character Study, Don't know precisely how to explain it, I guess I'd like to warn you that there's some amount of body dysmorphia?, M/M, Poetry, Romance, but this deals with steve not knowing what the fuck to do with so much change, especially in his meatsuit, with a side dish of - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-29
Updated: 2020-02-29
Packaged: 2021-02-20 07:54:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 756
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22945651
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/karikes/pseuds/tauraya
Summary: you blink.your mouth forms the only wordyou will cling to after the universe stops expanding.A stucky poem I wrote like a year and a half ago that I'm still proud of. Rated T because both Steve and I have a foul mouth.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers
Series: author's favorites [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1781305
Comments: 8
Kudos: 22





	what this body was made for

**Author's Note:**

> Publishing something after not for a whole entire year? Rough. But I'm doing it. Poetry doesn't do well on ao3 as a general rule, but doesn't matter! I'm breaking the silence, and for the 3.5 people who read this: thank you. For my regular readers: There will be _something_ before the end of the year. Actual fic, not just poetry, lol.

_i._  
you blink.  
you touch your hand.  
you’ve grown a mile.

that’s what it feels like-  
five thousand two hundred and eighty feet  
have crammed their way between your  
own two feet and the crown of your head.

you blink.  
you touch your hand.  
your bones feel stronger.

that sounds fucking dumb and you know it,  
but your bones feel stronger,  
like you’ve been standing on infirm ground  
your entire life and it’s only just now  
you know how to stand properly.

well.  
your spine never was much for   
sticking up straight,  
so maybe yeah.   
maybe you are standing properly  
for the first time in your damn life.

you blink.  
you touch your hand.  
your skin is tighter, warmer,  
_better._

everything about you is _better,_  
and while you’re so goddamn grateful  
to _breathe_ without the threat of a lung giving out,  
you have only ever had the one body.

what do you do with a new one   
when the old one was _yours_  
and this one is the property of the   
United States Government with a capital g?

well.  
you blink.  
you open your eyes.

you see color,  
vivid blue and red and green and   
the world is bursting with so much  
that you never really missed  
because those eyes were the only ones you had.

your left ear is working,  
and the feeling is so strange that   
you start to cry.

it’s stupid.

you blink.  
you shut your eyes tight,  
squeeze them until all those colors  
burst on the inside of your eyelids.

_ii._  
you blink.  
it is today.  
today, today.  
today that was unthinkably far in the future  
to the old you with a spine that wouldn’t work,  
a whole fucking body that wouldn’t work.

you close your eyes   
and try to find the warmth of familiarity.  
it does not come and it does not come.

new things will have to do.  
maybe that’s why you were given this new body:  
so you could come to tomorrow and to do  
the same things you’ve always done,  
just with new people.

the new things are your home and your friends  
and the food and the people and cars and  
internet- that’s a fun one-  
and  
everything is new.

_iii._  
you blink.  
your mouth forms the only word  
you will cling to after the universe stops expanding.  


you blink.  
he remembers.  
he doesn’t.  
you blink again and again,  
willing the years to catch up   
to the both of you.

you blink.  
he touches your hand.  
this is what this body was made for:  
loving him.

the old body and the new one  
met in a single purpose,  
spinning on the axis of one man;  
the sun, the moon, the ground beneath your feet.

you breathe.  
he blinks.  
yeah.  
this is it.  
this is the beginning and end  
of everything you have ever cared  
to hold close to your aching heart.

he says your name,  
the only voice you have ever turned to  
because you know it like you know your own life.

he’s the reason you’ve always lived.  
no, that’s wrong.  
reason implies that there was a choice,  
a causation behind loving him.

you laugh.  
you touch his cheek.

it was.  
it is.  
you _are._

you are his,  
as surely as the clench of his jaw,  
the jut of his nose,  
the smirk in his eyes,  
and he is yours.

that is the only truth.  
he is your greatest weakness  
and only source of strength.  
the alpha and omega of your own damn alphabet,  
like he’s got some freaky powers   
to make your heart thud in your chest  
even though your heart rate rests far lower than the average human.

he doesn’t have any of that though.  
he’s just got the same truth as you do.

you blink.  
you run your thumb along his cheekbone.  
he says something, and it means nothing-  
absolutely goddamn nothing   
in the face of his skin touching yours.

you kiss him.

yeah. that’s it.  
that’s what this body was made for.

you met him in the face of all impossibility  
because soulmates don’t exist,  
but you love him, and that’s enough to rewrite the universe   
so you could meet him again.

you kiss him. again.  
again you kiss him  
and he kisses you and  
this is what you were made for.

warmth floods your veins,  
spiralling gold of summer afternoons  
and winter evenings spent huddled together.

he says something,  
and you listen this time,  
with both of your good ears.

“i can’t believe you, punk,”  
he says,  
and you start crying.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments and kudos are _always_ appreciated, whether you consider yourself a poetry person or not!
> 
> (Also I tend to prefer some British spellings. Spiralling has two L's and no one can tell me otherwise, not even my theory teacher who constantly marked up the "s" on my towards last semester because toward is BORING and the British are right about that "s" so I kept using it! Thank you for coming to my ted talk.)


End file.
